


Another Life

by Vengeance_Angel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vengeance_Angel/pseuds/Vengeance_Angel
Summary: Select HP characters in the Tolkien-verse.Nori finds out the reason for Dori's unusual saying: "Don't get drunk, dressed as a 'dam, if you're from the line of Durin." He doesn't think he'll ever see the son he gave up again. Then the Quest to reclaim Erebor happens.
Relationships: Fíli (Tolkien)/Harry Potter, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	1. Prologue - A Meeting of Deaths

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any recognisable characters, places, languages, settings or otherwise - All belong to their respective creators and contributors. I'm just playing in the sandboxes of literary and cinematic Giants.

**So, I had a new idea, that won't leave me alone. I will get back to my other works in other fandoms as soon as my muses for them return from wherever they've fucked off to. In the meantime, here's a prologue almost entirely unconnected to the main story-line. Sorry.  
**

* * *

  
A MEETING Of DEATHS

Namo stepped through the aether, journeying the non-space between realms in strides that were both numerous and yet a singular one. There was a gathering of the Death Gods here, and Namo had some souls to trade.

Ea was a comparatively new world, having only been re-made twice or thrice… maybe more, honestly Namo wasn’t paying attention to that. So long as the souls went out to live on their little realm, and came back through death, what did it matter to him really. Of course, some of the other death gods came from worlds re-made hundreds of times, so the souls they came to trade tended to be older, and more _interesting_ when put in a new environment.

Namo approached a grouping of Death gods, sporting their various appearances – tall, small, macabre, benevolent, a single entity or a group arguing amongst itself – all examining a soul being held out by one of the gods of an older realm. An older realm meant an older, more expensive soul. Namo probably would not be able to trade for it, but it was still worth a look.

The souls that had been re-born again and again as their realms were remade were always so much more _interesting_ , they developed _quirks_ that followed them from one life to the next. And to draw a crowd like this, this one must be really something.

“This one is interesting.” One of the personifications of death commented, looking closely at the upheld soul.

“This one is troublesome.” The owner of the soul muttered grumpily. A wave of amusement ran through the crowd. They all had souls like that, ones that never quite followed the rules.

Namo himself, was reminded of Aule’s little favorite, ‘Durin’. Always somehow slipping back into the Cycle before it was supposed to. If Aule didn’t keep such a close watch over the ridiculous thing, Namo would have traded it away after the first Remaking.

After a bit longer examining the interesting soul, most of the gathered death gods moved off, deciding this one was too ‘troublesome’ to trade for. Namo stepped closer. He was sure Aule had cheated on that bet, so it would serve him right to be paid with a troublesome soul. Maybe then he’d be too busy trying to keep an eye on this new one, Namo would be able to sneak away Durin, and put it through a full Cycle finally. That one didn’t just have _quirks_ – without a full Cycle, it kept _Remembering_. Namo swears it _Remembers_ lives from past re-makes too. It needed a full Reincarnation Cycle like a mortal infant’s security blanket needs a good wash every now and again. The older Death God in front of him made an amused sound at the imagery Namo had unintentionally broadcast.

“Your ‘brother’ can keep his Security Blanket soul. I am trying to rid myself of a menace, not merely trade for another.”

“What makes this one so problematic?” Namo asked, taking an up-close look at the shining little soul, admiring the many facets to it's multidimensional glow that made it so _interesting_.

“It won’t stay dead until it’s good and ready to. Just keeps coming back to life until it has reached the natural end of it’s life-form.” The god sighed. “Right from the start, as a new soul, then every Reincarnation and Re-make afterwards.”

“That is a troublesome quirk.”

“Indeed.”

“I feel it will not want to go without the rest of the set.” Namo noticed.

“Indeed.” The other death god scowled, both at the soul in it’s grasp, and at Namo for stating his observations aloud as several other watching entities moved off, losing interest in the soul now that it wasn’t only _troublesome_ , but also came as part of a set. Very few death gods came to these with more than one or two souls to trade – the only realms that could actually afford to possibly lose souls in a trade were the very oldest ones that had been through a few mortal population booms per Re-make.

“I have these to trade.” Namo brought out the handful of souls he had managed to scrape together, three of which had been elves the last two Re-makes, and were decidedly bored, apparently. "At least one more from your set, to make up for the troublesome quirk." The other god reached out to gently brush against Namo’s offered souls, examining them briefly.

“They are very new.” They commented. “Like you and your realm.”

“Yes,” Namo agreed, “But not a troublesome quirk in the lot. They have some points of interest but aren’t going to cause you any problems, regardless of where you might put them.” When the older god hesitated, Namo moved to put his small collection away again.

“Fine. But I’ll only include the strongest connections.” The god finally acquiesced. “I may want to get rid of this one, but I’m rather fond of some of the others.”

The pulled out the rest of the network, like a glowing web surrounding the original soul, and plucked away those of the dimmest branches. And damn, if some of those taken away weren’t _Interesting_ souls that had some of the dispersed group of entities coming back in closer again. The end of the ‘pruning’ left only the strongest connected souls surrounding the _troublesome_ one that would be Aule’s payment for the lost bet. Namo nodded in agreement, condensed the web back into a cluster he could hold, and handed over his traded souls. He silently wished them luck in their new realm as he backed away from the huddle surrounding the older god.

Other death gods were now bringing out their souls to trade, having caught sight of the specimens kept back from the trade with Namo.

As he stepped back through the aether to his home realm, Namo inspected more closely the souls that came with his Interesting one. They were a decent haul, even if he was going to have to give Eru some of the best ones, so he wouldn’t kick up a fuss about having traded so many of his elven souls.

“Don’t say I don’t pay my debts.” Namo called out as he placed the soul on The Smith’s workbench. The other Valar hurried over from his anvil.

“Where are you taking those others?” Aule questioned suspiciously, after grinning pleased at the interesting new soul.

“I had to borrow from Eru to get that for you, so the rest go to him to dole out.” Namo dismissed, as he headed out. He needed to put the rest of these through at least part of a Reincarnation Cycle, before Eru dropped them on Ea. Aule could do the re-forging of his new toy himself before they are set loose on the world.

Like Durin, that one is officially no longer Namo’s problem.  
  


* * *

  
**Please don't comment yet - Chapter One incoming. This is just me rationalising how HP characters ended up in Middle Earth.**

**-Vengeance**


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Nori looked down, shocked at the babe that was just lain upon his chest. The newborn dwarfling gave an unhappy wail, curling little pink fingers into Nori’s chest hair.

“You have a healthy little dwarrow, there.” The Healer, Lili, told him through a tight smile. “You won’t be able to have any more this way though.”

“That’s fine. I didn’t even know this could happen to me.” Nori choked; eyes still glued to the naked babe he’d just watched be pulled from his body. Suddenly it all clicked, and Nori’s hands began to shake, and shocked tears came to his eyes.

“Don’t get Drunk, dressed as a ‘dam, if you’re from the line of Durin.” He laughed brokenly. “Dori warned me, but I didn’t know what he meant. Fuck. Ori?” He gasped out, tears escaping to run down his cheeks, breathing becoming harder as pain and shock really set in.

“Here, some poppy-milk for the pain.” Lili offered, having finished stitching her patient up. “If I was surprised about this little one, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now. Just drink up and rest some.” While Nori swallowed the bitter concoction, Lili’s assistant took the still upset newborn to be cleaned and weighed.

Once the healers had left, and the cleaned babe was laid in the attached cot, Nori gazed upon the small life he’d unwittingly brought into the world. Black hair covered the small head in wild tufts, soft skin already showing to be a more honied shade common to the Blacklock dwarves, than the pale of Nori’s own, and a pair of bright emerald eyes gazing back into a matching, if older pair.

“I can’t be your Amad, little one.” Nori frowned, gently brushing a finger delicately over new born skin until the lullaby of the potent poppy-milk pulled the dwarf into slumber.   
  


* * *

“You’re leaving.” The astute dwarrowdam noted factually, arms folded across her chest. “Without Hari.”

“Miss Lili, I…” Nori sighed and pushed his unbound hair back under the turban tied around it in the current Blacklock fashion.

“You’re underage.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t come from a well-off family.”

“No.”

“You don’t know who the father is.”

“No.”

The pair stood in the sparsely lit guest room of the healer’s family home for a moment of silence, both their eyes on the sleeping dwarfling on the other side of the room.

“I can’t look after him. I’d be bringing Hari across most of Arda, to the Blue Mountains, an' even if he survived the trip, he’d just starve along with me and my brothers.” Nori repressed a sob, as he took in what would probably be the last view of his son. “Your colouring is close enough to mine, and your husband is a pretty typical Blacklock, no one will question him not being yours’. You’re a Healer, and Jamis is a Guardsman – you can actually feed him and pay for his schooling.”

Lili interrupted her fellow red head with a tight hug.

“You don’t have to convince me to adopt little Hari, he’s the greatest gift anyone could have given my family. But are you sure it’s what you want to do?” The dwarrowdam questioned quietly.

“It’s what I have to do.” Nori replied and disengaged from the hug. With one last glance to the sleeping babe, a sniff and a discrete wipe at wet eyes, the young dwarf ducked out the door, slipping away from the residence in the Ephol Duath, beginning the long journey back north to Thorin’s Halls in Ered Luin. 

* * *

Jamis came home from his shift on the guard rotation, to Lili standing in the living room, gently rocking the little babe whose previously unaware parent his sweet wife had taken in as a charity case. Imagine Lili and her assistant’s surprise, when instead of a ruptured appendix or something, there’d been a live baby in there, ready to come out. The poor young dwarrow hadn’t even known he’d had the genetic quirk to make bearing a child possible, much less that he’d been carrying one.

The young lad had been a mess, emotionally and physically, and had been so damn grateful for Lili for her help. He had the most loving, beautiful dwarrowdam in all of Arda for his One, regardless of what cousin Sirius sometimes teased, and young Nori and his dwarfling were benefiting from Lili’s giving nature.

Lili and he’d been trying to have dwarflings of their own for a while now, but had yet to be blessed by Mahal, so the presence of a newborn in their home was something Jamis was choosing to take as a portent of many tiny feet running through their halls in the future.

“Where’s Nori?” The dark-haired dwarf asked quietly, taking a peek over his wife’s shoulder, and smiling at the quiet but awake little dwarrow.

“Gone home.” Lili replied. The mug of mead Jamis had been raising to his lips, lowered again.

“What?”

“He wanted us to raise the little one, since he couldn’t. So, my love, meet our son.” An awed and grateful smile spread across Jamis’ bearded face, as Lili gently transferred the newborn into his arms.

“You, mizimith, are the greatest treasure your new Amad and I could ever have received. Welcome, Harilaos to the House of Black.”

* * *

  
Nori’s scar from little Hari’s birth hadn’t healed as cleanly as he’d hoped, and still his stomach muscles ached like being stabbed, even nearly a year later. He had finally made it back to Dori’s house in Ered Luin and was trying to get out of his travel worn clothes without waking either of his brothers. Trying, being the key word.

“Nori?” Apparently unsuccessfully, as Dori poked his head around the door without waiting for a reply. There was pause, and then Nori’s older brother was there helping to remove the garment giving the younger dwarf so much trouble.

“Oh Nori.”

“You know, your warning was about as clear as coal.” Nori gave a choked laugh, not feeling able to look his big brother in the eye. “Had no idea what you meant, and suddenly they’re cutting a babe outta me.” 

“Oh Nori.” Dori sighed again, sweeping his brother up in a hug, for once mindful of his incredible strength. “And the pebble?” He cautiously queried.

“Gave him to a well off Blacklock couple – married, both in good work with steady income. The ‘dam coulda been my sister in looks.” Nori muttered into Dori’s shoulder, for once not resistant to the taller dwarf’s affections. “What happened to yours? Ori is?”

“Our brother. I lost my little one during the surgery to get him out near 25 years before Ori was born to Amad.” Dori finally admitted, holding himself together by the skin of his teeth. “Losing my child is not something I think I can talk about still.”

The brothers remained leaning together for long while afterwards.  
  


* * *

**Okay. Scene set. Most of this chapter was thought up/written while listening to 'Sleep Well, My Angel' by We Are The Fallen. Very Emo, I know, but it is what it is.  
**   
**In my head-cannon, the Blacklock dwarves live on the south-western corner of the Mountains of Shadow, which according to the Middle-Earth map stored on my computer is an area called Ephol Duath. It's bordered by Near Harad, and thus the Blacklock culture and fashions are influenced by the Men they often trade with. They moved there a century or so ago after some great calamity or another had them leaving Rhun, because the Longbeards can't be the only Kazad forced to leave their homelands. If anyone wants to assist in making my head-cannon more accurate for Tolkien traditionalists, feel free to message me.**

**Anyone who wants to flame me, can go take a long walk off a short pier. Or alternately, if you don't like, don't read.**

  
**Would you, dear readers who think they may enjoy this work, like me to jump straight to The Hobbit arc, and then backfill Hari/Harilaos' past, or flesh out my notes and try to give cut scenes of Hari growing up first??**

**-Vengeance**


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 – Cutscenes of Life, the Early Days

“How does it all work anyway?” Nori asked the healer, and older dwarf by the name of Oin.

The continuing pain, and nearly being caught by the guardsmen because his agility was thrown to shit thanks to his surgical scar, had finally convinced the young red head to see a healer about if it could be made better. Dori’s nagging and slapping some coin into his hand that morning certainly hadn’t helped make his decision either. Not at all.

“Defect from in-breeding in the early line.” The healer answered distractedly, probing the scar tissue across his patient’s stomach. “All the First Fathers’ lines have some defect or another. Durin’s line just ended up with a form of hermaphroditism. Most have corrective surgery as young lads and lasses, if it turns up – choose who they want to be and go from there. Woulda’ thought you’d be far enough from the Main Line to have avoided it, honestly. I’d like to see the healer who treated you’s after surgery notes.”

“Musta’ been a genetic throwback. Argh, yeah, I can give you her name, ow, should get a raven through.” Nori winced as a particularly tender area was probed. “You’re not gonna tell anyone about me, and my, ah, injury, right?”

“Course not!” Oin stood straight, looking his apprehensive patient in the eye. “Ain’t no one else’s business, and when us Healers make notes, there’s no names that are written down. We’re professionals, not gossipy washer-women.”

“Right. Sorry, just had to ask.”

Oin ‘hurumphed’ and returned to his examination.

“You didn’t rest long enough and opened up the internal stitching. I’ll have to go back in and re-do it.” Was his final evaluation. “Be prepared to be out of work for a few weeks so this doesn’t happen again.”

Nori swore.  
  


* * *

Albus, current Head of the Black family looked down on the babe being proudly presented to him by its new parents.

“I didn’t realise you were expecting Lili, my dear!” The elder dwarf commented, after congratulating his junior family members. “You didn’t take time from work, or slow down at all.”

“Actually, he’s adopted. A young traveller needed help to birth him at my clinic, and asked me and Jamis to take him in.” Lili explained, face glowing, happily gazing at the sleeping infant in her arms.

“He’s a lovely young lad, to be sure.” Albus commented, “But do you think he’ll fit in as he grows? After all, what if he doesn’t have the Black Family magic, and can’t join the Shaman’s school with his cousins?”

“I married into this family, and I still had the same Masters as Jamis and even Sirius.” Lili frowned at her elder.

“His sire’s a Blacklock dwarf, and there’s obviously Black blood in there somewhere,” Jamis argued. “I mean, just look at that hair!” The smiling new father gently ran his fingers through the thick tufts of pitch-black hair adorning his son’s head. “Besides, there’s other jobs in the mountain, and we’re not of the Main Line anyway. He might be a Guardsman like me, or a Master of Coin like Orion was. Or he might have stone-sense like Artur’s eldest and be a Mining Architect!”

“Or a Healer like me?” Lili amusedly hummed at her excitable husband. The dark-haired man chuckled and smiled at his wife.

“Of course, you are right.” Albus demurred. “And what have you named this new addition to our illustrious House?”

“Harilaos.” Jamis announced. At his Head of House’s lifted white eyebrow, he defended, “What? It’s a star.”

“So it is, my boy, so it is.”

* * *

  
  
“We’re not talking about this with Ori.” Dori argued. Nori frowned from where he was completing some embroidery for a recent commission.

Being restricted to ‘light duties’ sucked, and no one could tell Nori otherwise. Not only did he have to put up with Dori’s fussing all day, what work he could do brought in only a fraction of the coin his usual enterprises did, and plain living expenses were eating up the little nest egg he’d been building up for the past decade. Once he could move properly again, Nori would have to start nearly all over again. 

“But what if he has the same problem as us?” The younger dwarf argued, frowning. “That wouldn’t be a trifecta to be proud of.”

“I changed all of Ori’s nappies, so I know he’s fine.” The silver haired dwarf reprimanded.

“You changed some of mine, and still had no clue.”

“I didn’t know there was anything different I should have been looking out for, then.”

“So Amad didn’t tell you, you were different then?” Nori looked up from his work in thought. “I don’t remember seeing any scars on her, so was she like us?”

“No, she didn’t, and no she wasn’t.” Came Dori’s clipped reply. “Now quiet down, Ori will be home soon.”

“Why didn’t she though? I mean, a little warning would have been nice.” The younger dwarf continued, ignoring the older.

“I don’t know. And since she’s gone, we’ll never know. Now, enough.”

Spying Dori’s clenched jaw, Nori figured that was all the answers he was going to get today.  
  


* * *

  
Albus fumed, sitting in his office, glaring at his cup of tea like it had offended him greatly. The Lord of the Blacklocks, the venerable Lord Marko was in a right snit at the council meeting that morning, and it was no wonder. Crown prince Ivan had been caught in-flagrante, with a mistress by both his father and Uncle Tuomas, and small cadre of their personal aides.

Damnit, Albus’ grandson was supposed to be attractive and charming, yet here was proof Sirius had utterly failed to win over his own damn husband.

When Ivan had royally screwed up the rite to bind Sirius’ future line to the future of the Royal Line, and accidentally bound Sirius to himself instead, Albus had seen opportunity and seized it. He’d carefully and sympathetically counselled his horrified and mortified grandson into trying to make the best of the situation, and suggested that perhaps with time and effort, love would grow.

King Marko had flatly told his son, you screwed it up, you live with the consequences.

But now. Now, years later, there were no children- carved, adopted or otherwise; Sirius was publicly humiliated by a life-partner he just _would not_ get along with; Prince Ivan was in disgrace; and the Black family were no closer to having a member of their bloodline on the Shadow Mountain throne.

The Blacks should have married into the line of Forefather Var long ago, in Albus’ own opinion. They had the blood of Romestamo the Fallen flowing through their veins, making the Blacks the most powerful Shaman the race of Dwarrow has ever seen. If that could be combined with the descendants of Var, that child would be near unstoppable. And of course, Albus was a _very_ , very proud great-grandfather who would of course offer any and all assistance his beloved great-grandchild could need.

Albus sighed at his now cold tea cup.

Perhaps he should check in on Jamis and Lili’s little boy. He was showing a lot of promise for having an unknown sire and a foreign ‘dam. Whichever of him or his cousin was the more powerful would be the one Albus would convince Sirius to name his heir, since the lad apparently wasn’t going to have dwarflings of his own.  
  


* * *

  
**Oh look, new chapter.**   
**There were no comments, but I decided to challenge myself and try for some cutscenes of what's going on. I'm trying to keep it succinct, so I'm not just repeating myself later on, but a bit of backstory wont hurt.**   
**Thanks for reading.**

**-Vengeance**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Albus surveyed the battle aftermath, leaning heavily on his staff. It was an intricate work of mithril, black sapphire and stone-wood, large parts of which had once belonged to his ancestor, the Istari Romestamo.

Mordor orcs had somehow gotten into the third and fourth Deeps, slaughtering civilians, and off-guard warriors alike. There were no goblin settlements nearby, and orcs couldn’t tunnel or mine for themselves. That left only the horrifying notion that some dwarrow had let them in.

There had been a growing murmur of civil unrest in the past year, that seems to have started with the Crown Prince’s Mistress-in-the-closet scandal, that had somehow morphed from the follies of youth when faced with an ample bosom and pretty smile, into a reflection of the main royal line’s ability to honour their contracts and promises.

However, the only other choice for the Lord of Ephol Duath would be Prince Tuomas, the current Ruler’s younger brother. He was a rather self-centred and violent fellow, if only behind closed doors, while presenting a studious and aloof face to the public.

But politics and kings would have to wait for tomorrow, for right now there were injured to send to the healing halls, Honourable Dead to return to the stone, and orc corpses to dispose of. Two of those Honourable Dead were Jamis and Lili, their bodies moved to the line of cadavers awaiting identification and burial.

When news of the attack came, Albus had been heading for the Black Family residence for a bite of lunch and to go through the minutes from the last Lord’s Meeting. Those papers were now strewn down some hallway or another, as he’d dropped them to come lend aid, as is required of all trained Shaman in the mountain. Both Albus’ brothers, Alastor and Aber had quickly taken up formation with their kin, and a contingent of younger house members had come from an adjoining hallway to box the threat in.

The orcs were rounded up and slain, but many had been injured or killed. Alastor had lost a piece of his nose, Albus’ grandson-in-law would be walking away with a few more scars, Albus himself was quite tried and bruised up, and of course, Jamis and his wife were slain. Sirius, unhurt if rather singed looking, was inconsolable. His favourite cousin and their One were dead. He’d only lost Regulus, his younger brother near a year and a half ago too.

Albus sighed and straightened from his exhausted lean. He had much too much to do, to be standing around, brooding over all the House of Black’s recent ill-fortunes. He’d send an aide to collect his dropped papers while he saw to his mourning grandson.

****

Tuni looked at the toddling dwarfling that she’d reluctantly agreed to take in, and that only due to the stipend the Black family was providing.

Ideally the brat would have gone to Moli, being Lili’s sister, compared to Tuni being her first cousin, but Moli already had seven dwarflings, one still being a babe-in-arms. So Tuni had been offered to take in her cousin’s child, and reluctantly did so. Now though, despite the money, she was already beginning to regret it.

First off, was the child’s name. Harilaos. Yes, it was a star, like most of the Black family named their descendants, but did Lili’s rock-head of a husband have to choose a star that was named for a _balrog_ that was killed by _an elf_ in the Second Age? Really, it was a ridiculous name.

Then there was the child himself. He was every inch the Black his dratted father was – coloured sparks coming off his fingers if he clapped excitedly, the stone tiles of the floor vibrating when he gets upset, the little brat’s obsession with any object even mildly enchanted. He’d stare at the object or doorframe or whatever, to the exclusion of all else as though he was trying to understand the runes etched into it.

And of course, to put the icing on the cake, whenever Tuni went about her business in the mountain with little Harilaos and her own son in tow, other ‘dams paid far more attention to the little freak, with his freaky sparks, and typical Blacklock skin, and bright jade eyes. Not that they didn’t compliment her, in Tuni’s own honest opinion, far superior son. But the elders and others still fawned over the brat, while her little dwarrow only rated a few comments. No money was worth her son being ignored like that.

Harilaos was once again staring at the jar on the mantle that contained a, currently unilluminated, light-stone. While all dwarrow possessed some magic – how else would they have Stone-sense, glowing crystals, hidden enchanted doorways, and metals that didn’t rust or tarnish – the Blacks, and therefore the freakish little dwarrow sitting on her floor, took that to a whole new level.

Maybe she should push the boy into his studies early, Tuni mused, as the smaller boy roundly ignored the other dwarfling on the rug who was hoarding the little wooden toys that had been put out for the both of them. It wouldn’t do to be so _abnormal_ as to mistreat the ill-named child, but if he was especially _talented_ , through actual talent or just sheer stand-over parenting, then he’d be his master’s problem, rather than Tuni’s.

Yes, that would work, she decided. Then the boy would be elsewhere, and her little boy wouldn’t be overshadowed by his cousin, like Tuni had been by hers as a child.

****

Oin frowned at the letter in his hand. Apparently, Lili, one of the healers he’d been collaborating with on a dissertation of the Faults of the Forefather’s lines and the problems with inbreeding, had been killed. Orcs had gotten into the Shadow Mountain somehow and killed many dwarves and their families. Lili’s successor at the clinic had written to him, along with sending all of Healer Lili’s research, after finding their correspondence, while setting up his newly acquired office.

It was a damn shame, since she was the only other healer he knew, still living, who had seen and performed surgery on a dwarf with the Durin Fault. Now there was only Oin. And all he had to go on was his old master, Balur’s notes, his own notes and now, Lili’s.

According to Healer Lili, young Nori’s pelvis was shaped and fused like a male’s, resulting in a natural birth being impossible. It was sheer luck, and the babe being small, that both child and birthing parent had survived. Healer Lili had recommended, for Nori’s continuing health, if nothing else, that he not bear anymore children. At the young dwarrow’s request, his female reproductive organs had been removed. 

According to Oin’s previous Master’s notes, Dori, Nori’s elder brother, had been in much the same boat. But being that he’d been forced to give birth in exile from Erebor, before they’d settled in the Blue Mountains, the child hadn’t survived. Also, according to Master Healer Balur, _Prince Frerin_ had been born with the Fault, and had chosen to be fully male in early childhood. Princess Dis was born normal, and Thorin, though outwardly completely male, was also completely sterile. Whether that meant he was internally, at least partially, female, or it was an unconnected condition, no one knew. Exploratory surgery just wasn’t safe enough to be going around performing non-lifesaving operations on Crown Princes.

Well, Oin had better get to contacting his other collaborators, to let them know of Lili’s passing. Her work would of course still be credited in the finished study, but they could now expect no more contact from the recently deceased dwarrowdam. Healer Ulfric, from the Ironfist clan in Rhun, would be most upset he would not be getting a response to his questions about the Mania from Baran’s line, or the Haemophilia in Var’s.

Oin should probably also let young Nori know. If Lili and her family were killed in an orc attack, that meant Nori’s child had passed away too.

* * *

**Finally, a new chapter!! Comments inspire me. No really, they let me know what you want to know more about, or if I've not explained something well.**  
**Only one more of these 'back-story' type chapters, I think, then on to our favorite Hobbit et al.**  
**Thanks for reading!!**

**-Vengeance.**


End file.
